Page 7 of His to Enjoy
“Go on,” Scott prompted, and I could hear the smile in his voice.
“The viewer can identify with Annabelle’s struggle,” I continued, hating myself for the analysis even as my marketing training kicked in. “The foster mother’s presence adds a layer of… of safety, even while she’s enforcing the training. It’s not just about submission to the male authority figure.”
“Interesting.” Scott leaned back slightly. “What would you add to make it more compelling?”
The question hung in the air while on screen, Kevin finally climaxed, holding Annabelle’s head firmly in place as she struggled to swallow. Lara’s crop came down twice more when the girl tried to pull away too soon.
“Good girl,” Kevin said on screen, finally releasing her. “You’re learning.”
A thought rose unbidden in my mind, something so mortifying I couldn’t believe it had come from my brain.
“She… she should have to watch them… her foster parents, I mean,” I whispered.
CHAPTER 4
Scott
“Watch them do what?” I asked, studying Grace’s lovely, bright pink face very closely.
Her face somehow managed to go even redder, and she pressed her thighs together in that telltale way that told me exactly how aroused she’d become watching Annabelle’s training. I waited, letting the silence stretch between us until she had no choice but to answer.
“Have… have relations,” Grace finally whispered, her voice so soft I had to lean closer to hear. “While she watches. To show her what’s expected in marriage.”
Perfect. Absolutely perfect. Sharon had been right about this one—Grace had exactly the kind of mind we needed, coupled with that delicious combination of genuine modesty and reluctant arousal that our viewers craved.
“That’s an excellent suggestion,” I said, keeping my tone professional even as I noted every small reaction—the way herbreathing had quickened, the slight tremor in her hands as she gripped the arms of her chair. “In fact, we’ve already filmed something similar. Would you like to see it?”
“I…” She swallowed hard, and I could see the war playing out behind those wide eyes. The part of her that had been trained to please did obvious battle with the part that wanted to flee. “Yes, sir.”
I clicked to the next scene, watching her face as the screen filled with the image of Kevin and Lara’s bedroom. Annabelle knelt in the corner, still in her training underwear, hands clasped behind her back as she faced the bed where her foster parents were beginning to undress each other.
“Oh,” Grace breathed, and the sound went straight to my cock.
On screen, Lara was explaining to Annabelle exactly what Kevin liked, how a good wife should touch her husband, while Kevin demonstrated wordlessly on Lara’s body how a husband expects to fuck—hard and fast, from behind, as his wife cries out in mingled need and discomfort. The camera work was exquisite, cutting between the couple on the bed and Annabelle’s face as she watched, her expression a mixture of embarrassment, curiosity, and unmistakable arousal.
“Your body seems to be responding to the material,” I observed, deliberately keeping my voice neutral. “That’s good. It means you understand our target audience.”
Grace’s hands fluttered to her lap, as if she could somehow hide her reaction from me. “Mr. Yellen… Scott… I don’t think…”
“Stand up,” I commanded, using the tone I’d perfected over years of managing exactly this type of woman—the ones who needed authority, but fought against it every step of the way.
She stood immediately, her body obeying even as her face showed her dismay at her own compliance. Interesting. Jacob had trained her well in some ways, but there were clearly gaps. Gaps I would very much enjoy filling—even as I filled Grace’s sweet, pleasurable holes.
“Sharon told me she had you change into appropriate interview attire,” I said, moving to stand directly in front of her. Close enough that she had to tilt her head back to meet my eyes. “I need to verify that you followed her instructions fully and correctly.”
Grace
My breath caught in my throat as Scott’s words hung in the air. The screening room suddenly felt impossibly small, the leather chair beneath me a trap I couldn’t escape from. On the monitor, Annabelle still knelt in the corner while her foster parents demonstrated what a husband expected from his wife, but I couldn’t focus on anything except Scott’s presence looming over me.
“I…” My voice came out as barely a whisper. “Ms. Fagan already checked.”
“Sharon checks for compliance with basic standards,” Scott said, his tone patient but firm. “I need to ensure you meet my specific requirements for this position.”
My hands trembled as I smoothed my navy dress against my thighs, knowing the gesture was pointless. He would see what he wanted to see. That was how it worked at Selecta. That was howit had always worked, even with Jacob, though somehow this felt different. More exposing. More terrifying.
“Lift your dress,” he commanded softly.
The words should have shocked me, but instead I felt that familiar flutter in my stomach—the one I hated, the one that meant my body was betraying me again. My fingers found the hem of my dress, and I slowly raised it, revealing the pink stockings inch by inch. The whisper of fabric against my skin seemed deafening in the quiet room.
